Oh, God. He can feel how much it hurts Wrench to tell him this. Numbers' imagination is filled with images of Wrench in the hospital, being interrogated, battling his way through the snow, lurking on the periphery of civilization. All completely alone.

Numbers doesn't know about Nikki. He doesn't know about the continuing cycle of revenge--how could he?

I don't know. Did you expect Hell to look like this?

He pauses, casting his gaze upwards towards the possibility of nuclear bombardment, before focusing his attention back on Wrench.

If we are dead, at least we're both here, now. I won't leave you. I promise.

Even as he signs it, the declaration feels hollow. Rich words from a walking corpse. Who is he kidding? He can't promise anything. He barely understands what's going on in this town, much less how to protect his partner from future unknown threats. And if Wrench really did spend ten years trying to survive, he can clearly take care of himself without Numbers. But at the moment, it seems like the right thing to say. His jaw sets into a grimace.

As long as we don't die again from the bombing.